


The Italian and the Dreamer

by theMiragePrismatic



Series: Draw a Heart Around the World [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMiragePrismatic/pseuds/theMiragePrismatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyone can throw together food but its the effort one puts in that makes a meal. Sharing food is how we show love and it's a philosophy Feliciano Vargas can get behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preview of Domesticity (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is has been sitting, horded away in my harddrive since last year (October 8, 2015). Figured I share it. (Edited 12 - 6 - 2016)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feliciano's ideas of courtship are obviously different from standard modern dating practices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There comes a point where you must post or not at all. Forgive any mistakes or weirdness. This is fluff. Broken into two parts because, it was so very long. (edited - 12-6-2016) No longer a reader insert

It was noon when the bell ringing through the house, piercing through Karissa’s closed bedroom door and  prompting a turn away from the tumblr blue of the page.    
  
After several seconds and with a deep lazy sigh, the young woman disentangled herself from her nest, disturbing the cats, making sure she were more slightly presentable for company slouched down the hall to the front window overlooking the street to get a good view of the visitor through the curtains. Hopefully, she could just pretend she wasn’t here if She didn't want to see anyone.   
  
She blinked. "Feli...?"   
  
He had two totebags of ...groceries? He was actually dressed normally in an overcoat and his car didn't scream 'I am a billionaire' but rather 'I have a decent enough income to afford a nice car'. She had to admit over the past few months She had grown to enjoy his company. She two didn't always agree but neither of She like fighting so debates managed to remain civil.   
  
The bell rang some more and she sighed, slumping down the stairs.   
  


He rang the bell again but soon Karissa was peering through a gap in the doorway. He smiled brightly as the door swung open fully, cats padding around her legs.   
  
Feliciano beamed. "Felice Sabato, bella terosa!"   
  
Her fluffy hair was freshly washed, reaching her shoulders, tied back by a headscarf-band and she was dressed comfortably in a purple tank top and a long cream colored peasant skirt that offset her raw umber skin and reached her ankles, revealing freshly washed barefeet.

"Hey, Feli. What are you doing  here?”   
  
"I was reclaiming some pieces for the Italian museums from London," he explained. "Through proper channels of course." he winked and Karissa smiled. "Thought I'd swing by! Hello, Carmella,” he greeted the cat.   
  
"Sometimes I like being alone," She smiled as Feliciano's face wilted in disappointment. "But She can come in anyway,"   
  
He lit up again as she waved him in and he took off his shoes and coat.    
  
Michelle, her roommate from Seychelles, wore her shoes inside sometimes so Karissa cleaned the floors once a week but everyone else had to take off their shoes if they were going past the front sunroom. there was a sign saying so.   
  
As he struggle out of his coat, she peered at the totebags. “What's all this for, Feli?"   
  
"Cooking!"   
  
"Feli..."   
  
"It'll be fun!"   
  
"Maybe later." she said. "I was just lounging around.” she couldn’t but notice - quietly - that he actually wore  _ casual  _ clothes as opposed to a suit. Not that he didn’t look go in suits.   
  
It was positively unfair how good he made a blue button-up with the collar up and the cuffs rolled paired with jeans look, his curl floating on the air. She also missed his fedora though She wasn’t going tell him that.   
  
He didn’t say anything, a minuscule smile brightening his face as he pulled off his shoes. "Were you  writing?"   
  
"A little. Watching movies mostly, net surfing. Lounging. here, we can use the den."   
  
"We should unpack this first." he said gathering up the tote bags and ignoring her attempts to help.   
  
The 'reception area' in front of the kitchen had been wrestled into a sort of sitting/dining room with an ottoman bench on either of the room, and a round table in the center - donated from Elizaveta and Emma after they realized a bigger table was in order for their kitchen.  
  
She raised her eyebrows at his purchases - a pasta maker, fresh tomatoes - 'From Fratello's garden!' - homemade tomato sauce - he jarred it himself – cookies, fresh fruits, ricotta cheese, confectioner's sugar, flour, ham, zucchini...   
  
"Feli..."   
  
"Si?"   
  
"You have been sneaking me food!" She held up the ingredients accusingly.   
  
He didn't even have the grace to look sheepish; he looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "Took you long enough~"   
  
"I just didn't feel the need to mention it." Karissa grumbled. “Are you trying to fatten me up?"   
  
He giggled at that - one of the few men she knew who could get away with it - and slid his arms around her waist from behind her, resting his chin in the crook of her shoulder, feeling She instantly relax. " _ No, certo che no! Stavo solo cercando di nutrire voi, mia passerottina _ ~"   
  
"I do eat, you know." She grumbled. The fact she jealously horded them for rainy days was her business. She straightened up, hoping he didn’t notice that she’d leaned into his hold and smoothly disentangled herself.

  
"It's a little early for pasta though..." She added. "What if I don't want any?"   
  
He just smiled. "Yes, She will. I'm an expert at pasta making."   
  
"You're awfully presumptuous, Sunshine. You plan on taking over my kitchen for the day?"   
  
"Why yes I do! But later. I brought films! They're in the other bag in the hall. I'll finish unpacking."   
  
He shooed Karissa away, prompting a roll of her eyes and a tuneless, little hum followed her out, the only noise made from her departure.   
  


* * *

  
  
In the den, she fished out Feliciano's movie choices and then hastily shoved them back in the bag, spotting covers with grotesque images. She did spot a historical film and plucked it out of the bag, trying to avoid looking at the others.   
  
The den was in the basement and served as the sleepover room/laundryroom with the laundry room and the bathroom tucked into the back of the basement (which was towards the front of the house, but details). the ‘Murals of Nomads’ was in the middle of the den, a collection of pictures from her and Michelle’s travels.   
  
The sleepover section was covered in sort-of mismatched plush cushions of varying shades of blue (the result of much thrift shop raiding and Michelle’s crafting projects and her less expert help) making an infinity bed and had additional squishy pillows everywhere (donated by friends) and the necessary 'Moody Couch' that they had saved up for.

  
She and Michelle both loved it and they always had first dibs. there was a coffee tables for the snacks and drinks. She contemplated the assortments of blankets, beanbags and pillows and decided whatever, She liked the 'Moody Couch' and set up their snacks between it and beanbag chair and their drinks. In lieu of a telly, they'd acquired a projector since they often streamed movies from their computers and there were shelves of movies.   
  
Feliciano reappeared, carrying a tray of more snacks, drinks and their respective mugs. "Anything you fancy?"   
  
She hummed, arranging pillows.   
  
"Oh, I know! We can watch this!" Feliciano set down the drinks and pulled a movie from the pile. "Nightmare City."   
  
“No.”   
  
He smiled faintly at her flustered offense as the woman bustled about. "Aw, please? I'll be here to protect you!"   
  
"I hate zombies."   
  
He pouted.   
  
"My first encounter with a horror film was upsetting."   
  
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "How old were you?"   
  
"I was in middle school."   
  
"Do all of your fears come from childhood misfortunes?"   
  
"Yes.” She appeared offended by his small amused smile. “And the horrors of the world. I can't even handle a basic haunted house anymore! We can watch Supernatural if you want but only because it's daytime."   
  
He giggled. "Okay~ You can pick,"   
  
"Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe," She said, "Have you seen it?" It was undoubtedly her favorite movie of all time - She knew because she had found it worth repeat watches.   
  
"No..."   
  
"Read the books?" His expression said no. "Uncultured swine," She 'scolded'.   
  
Feliciano made a show of skulking as he put in the movie and turned off the lights and she settled into the mood nest, snagging a lemon candy she hadn't remembered seeing in the pantry.   
  
She rolled her eyes at his pout and shifted to make room from him. He eagerly bounded forward to cuddle, shifting in the mood nest to spoon against her back, his chin in the crook of her neck and pulled the 'blanket' over them both, settling both pleased to find a fellow cuddlebug. He was like a furnace and she was fervently jealous of the male half of the species for having better natural heat than she did. Oh well. At least she got good snuggles out of it.   
  
"You're so cold..." Feliciano folded their hands together, letting her take in his natural warmth. She was naturally like this, but she didn’t bother to remind him. He knew.   
  
He hummed happily, folding his arms around her and the photographer tried to keep her sigh soundless but she didn't think she succeeded. As the Pevensie children were sent away from a London at war, she relaxed, letting his warmth surround her and carry them away to a magical land.   


* * *

  
  
They actually fell asleep towards the end of the movie, burrowed in the folds of the mood nest. At some point Carmella nudged her way in, curling near her stomach.   
  
"Passerottina, cara..." Feliciano smiled gently at her sleeping face, her curved lips slightly parted for air. He blew gently on her neck, making her twitch. Svegliarsi, passerottina..." (wake up sparrow)   
  
She hummed, eyes blinking open slowly. Carmella crooned, sweeping her tail under her nose and making her sneeze.   
  
"Wha..?"   
  
_ "Il film è finito. Credo che tu fossi sonno _ ," (The movie is over. I guess you were sleeping.)   
  
She hummed, burrowing into the blankets. "Still sleepy though..." She twisted to face him, sighing and nestling against him, arranging her arms comfortably around him. Carmella curled up ontop of them. A small smile of satisfaction crossed the Italian’s face as he let her drift off to sleep again, gently stroking her hair.   
  
I am in so much trouble.   
  
  



	2. A Preview of Domesicity (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feliciano Vargas knows that even women can't resist the allure of good food. Cooking is something of a pride of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the middle of NaNoWriMo but this is already written so... throwing it up! I'm probably regret this when I'm more awake.
> 
> Edited: 12 - 6 - 2016

Karissa woke alone and twisted, as she stretched. Carmella merowed as she sat up and the cat draped around her neck, sounding at annoyed at being disturbed. The rabbit corner was empty and she frowned.

"Feli?"

She rubbed her eyes when she emerged in her kitchen, the scent of sauces luring her in towards the cooktop. Lukas - teh Norwegian Forst Cat- was sitting on the counter as if supervising, while Natasha  the Russian Blue watched from the top of the fridge.  
  
Carmella skipped down from Karissa's to go greet the older cat. 

"You're awake!" Feliciano smiled at her as she approached him at the dining room table and he leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek, making her flush. A quick look at the clock told her it was after four in the afternoon  


“Oh, what’s this?”  


She plucked a cooling square off the cooking sheet on the dining table, taking a cautious, testing nibble as she folded herself into one of the chairs. There was another, cold antipasto dish - a light salad-esque antipasto with zucchinis substituting for the cucumbers, ham, olives, cherry tomatoes and cheese.

“Pizza square antipasto.” he said, cheerfully. “A few minutes fresh out of the oven. I figured you would be hungry.”

"I will always love that you lot call appetizers 'before pasta'." she giggled. "You're brilliant.” She took a bigger bite and hummed in satisfaction. “Is this zucchini on here?"

“Si!"  


“Can I keep you?” she blurted then hastily covered her mouth but he laughed.

“Of course you can, dolcezza, if I can keep _you.”_

Her heart nearly failed at that and she kept her smile behind her hand, talking around the small bit of pizza. “Of course; that’s what friends do.” she said, dodging the implications.

But it didn’t stop her conversation with Michelle earlier this week from resonating in her mind.

_"He likes you, too. As more than a friend. He's been trying to tell you for like five months now...?"_

“Yes it is.” He didn’t miss a beat and she relaxed.

Feliciano became aware that perhaps he made a terrible mistake in doing this especially with no one but her menagerie to interrupt to them, no one rattling around the house to pull him out of his dreamings. She was so relaxed here, sinking into her chair and crossing her legs. He wasn't sure if that was calculated or natural. But then again, she didn’t seem the type; she made most things she did look naturally intended. His mouth went dry and he took a moment to steady himself. "Did you eat this morning?"

"Toast,"

"Passerotina..." he silently despaired at the woman he had chosen. Karissa cooked only out of a need to live but did not seemed to appreciate the need to eat regularly.  


"Oh! I had a sandwich," she added.

"Oh, Karissa," he sighed.

She rolled her eyes. "What about your masterpiece? What are you making?”

  
"I have a timer," he assured her. “I just put it on actually. _Primo, la salsa di formaggio.” (First the cheese sauce)_

He had found their collection of sophisticated pots that her mother had given her a budget for. 'Buy a nice cooking set for yourselves. You have a house, take advantage!' Spices and ingredients were neatly lined up on the counter along with measuring tools and the double boiler was on with the cheese sauce.

"For the cheesy mac?" She laughed at the odd look he gave her, leaning her forearms on the table. "That's what Mom called it."

His gaze softened at that.

"Some people think baked mac and cheese is acceptable and then have the nerve to do it badly or make the cheese all bubbly and clumpy or burn it." Feliciano looked offended by the very idea. "The trick is to melt the cheese before hand, I think."

Oh really...? "I'll have to try it some time." he said, smiling in a way that made her arch an eyebrow. "But no, it is not macaroni and cheese."

"So, you're going to keep me in suspense?"

"Hm..." He leaned close, their noses almost touching as a small smile curved on his thin, pale lips. "Si."

Karissa let out a slow breath, rattled from their proximity. "So, you don't want me to help with anything?"

  
His smile widened. "You can help me make dessert. But first, eat.”

“You are trying to fatten me up,”

“A good warrior should keep up her strength,” he chided. He was still perilously close.

  
She rolled her eyes even as she lowered her gaze as she finished off the square. “Cierto, cierto...” (True, True)

 

Feli just hummed and nearly fell on the table making Karissa lurch back in surprise when Natasa jumped on his shoulders, producing a burst of laughter from her _maestra._

“Piccolo diavolo,” he said fondly, fishing the cat off. He winced as Natasha's claws bit through his skin; Karissa scolded her lightly as she bundled the cat into her arms.

“Your cats are very temperamental,” Feliciano sighed, disappointed. On cue, Carmella merowed, rubbing against Feliciano's leg and he cooed, bending to scratch at the Scottish Fold’s ears. “Well most of them,”

Karissa chose not to inform Feliciano of Carmella's mischievous side.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” Natasha curled up in Karissa's lap and she sctratched around the cat's ears.

“I liked it,” he confessed. “You said there’s a whole series?”

The conversation fell into movies - Narnia - then favorite books, then teetered dangerously close to religion because of the religious undertones in the Narnia series - she was firmly pantheist. 'There is no thinking god. Nature is god.' He was not devoutly religious - his profession made that hard to justify but he had grown up with it. They had had this conversation before and he’d tell her bible stories.

He carefully shielded his creations from her view and she rolled her eyes - midway through, he decided to start on the dessert.  
  
Feliciano moved about the kitchen with the confidence and grace of a professional chef. With the main course bubbling away on the cooktop and in the separate oven and the fruit salad mixed, they turned their attention to the dessert making.

Carmella and Lukas watched the proceedings from on top the fridge; Natasha planted herself by Karissa's feet and glared at the Italian.

"Cinnamon biscotti?" He'd brought one of his personal cooking journals and the pages were full of little adjustments and additions. Karissa was a little jealous.

"Si, it's one of my favorites. I couldn't find any parchment paper though..."  
  
"It's here," she rattled through a cupboard and produced the material to his delight.

"It's smart laying out all the tools and ingredients like this," she complimented once ingredients and utensils were laid out. 

She paused to put on ‘Two Steps from Hell’ from the kitchen music box (her old Samsung Gravity), the cinematic music filling the kitchen from the speakers.

"Here, you can cream this - ” She gestured to the eggs, sugar and vanilla. “And I can mix the dry stuff,” She shuffled between their respective batches of ingredients. She chattered as they worked, sharing stories from her week - of the little girl who won her first duel at the dojo, for the antics of some of her MMA mates, of the crabby lady on the street who glared at her for accidentally bumping into her.

In return he told her about some of his grumpier clients, earning scoffs, giggles and quips directed at the absence offenders.

  
He kept a respectful distance, only guiding her hands when necessary (though was it really necessary or he just looking for an excuse?).

  
This was nice. The cats knew to stay off the counters while cooking was taking place and they moved around with ease; he still wouldn’t let her see the main dish making her roll her eyes and dance around the kitchen to the music as they shared stories and tucked the cinnamon biscotti into the oven for the first round of baking and the pizza squares under the heating lamp, the cold appetizers in the fridge.  


“The main course is done!” Feliciano announced. “No, no looking yet!” he scolded and she rolled her eyes, closing them.  


He carefully guided her to her seat, only letting her open her eyes when she was seated. “ _Pollo Milano_ ,” he said grandly. “ _con broccoli e salsiccia italiana in salsa di formaggio. Con un po 'di sidro frizzante_.”(Chicken Milan with broccoli and Italian sausage in cheese sauce with sparkling cider.)

He had found the thrift store rescued white ceramic and some of their few wine glasses.

  
“It smells divine,” she smiled. He felt tension he didn’t know he had roll out of him as he took a seat next to her at the table. They clinked their glasses together, smiling. “Bon appetite.”

  
This felt like a date to her but she was content to relax, eat, laugh, surrounded by the good scents of a freshly used kitchen and talk, always talking.

  
He smiled at her delighted hums. “This is soooo good! Molto bene, am I in heaven?”

  
“No but I brought a piece of heaven just for you,”

_Damn you Italians, really._

  
She couldn’t stop the smile at that line, covering a mouth still full of savory chicken.  


They fell deep into discussion about Roman History then, trailing to England and Greece and the Byzantine Empire and barely stopped talking to finish up the dessert, clean up dinner and wait for the biscottis to be done.

 

They both sighed when Feliciano pulled them out of the oven to cool, the good scent curling through the kitchen and he reverently cut the first chunk for her to eat, watching her expression of bliss as she slid it off the fork onto to her tongue, closing her eyes.  


“I bet you feed all your clients to lower their guard,” she teased when it was gone.

“No; I only cook for family, _mi - mia dolcezza_ ,” he stumbled, catching himself before the word slipped out, perfectly aware that he was falling harder than before her soft smile and relaxed aura completely drawing him in. He saw her own expression flicker before it was gone.  


_I am so doomed._  


“So much better than cinnamon toast,” she said, swaying on her feet to unheard music. “Hey, do you want play some games?”

  


“What kind of games?”

  


~^.^~

  


“This is Star Halma. It was marketed as Chinese Checkers because of 'exoticness' but it actually has nothing to do with China or checkers.” Karissa explained, holding out a still intact but worn cardboard box with a picture of marbles of various colors arranged into six a point star around a hexagonal field. “I use to play with my dad and brothers when I was a kid.”

  


Feliciano's attention quirked at the plural and the mention; she didn't talk about her male relations that often with the exception of Paul of course who she was both annoyed by and adored to pieces.

  


She settled on the floor of the den, setting up the box.

  


“You've had this for years then?” Feliciano asked.

  


“It was Dad's.” she confirmed. “It's probably older than I am. I've been wanting to get a wooden set but I haven't gotten around to it.” She was very careful with the old box. "It's traveled with me since university."

  


Another small piece of Karissa. "How do you play?"

  


~^.^~

  


The animals were settled, the snacks are set and they have the entire house to themselves for the whole weekend. The night grew older and it becomes cold and neither one of them bring up his needing to go before it got any later; they were having far too much fun playing board games, video games, eating, teasing and laughing. Could anything be more perfect?

  


Karissa was pleasantly warm when she awoke. Only the faint light from the night light lent light to the isolated basement, the cats were asleep and her pillow was not a pillow. She was stretched out with Feliciano on the cushioned floor of the den, her head resting on Feliciano's shoulder, his arm draped around her. It wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep on him; they just seemed to find comfort in being near each other. She stretched, trying not to disturb him, eyes roving over her three cats; Lukas draped over Carmichael and as always the sight never failed to make her smile.

  


Carefully, she began to stand without waking up him but found herself tugged back down, Feliciano's arms snaking around her waist as he snuggled against her.

  


"Hm...buongiorno,"

  


She heard a sleepy mumble and rolled her head to look at Feliciano who was smiling at her with hooded eyes.

  


"Buenos dias," she replied, smiling. "Can I get up?"

  


"No," he mumbled, a faint smile on his face. "Voglio dormire di più."

  


"But I want to get up."

  


"Hm..." Feliciano nuzzled her neck. "Altri cinque minuti?”

  


"Feli...."

  


"Troppo presto ... melina." He crooned. "Io preparerò la colazione~"

  


"Well...okay."

  


Feli hummed happily, snuggling against her and she let herself relax again as he murmured an Italian lullaby in her ear, his voice slowly trailing off as his hands made slow circles on her back.

  


Karissa's breaths were low and even, her slim figure relaxed in his hold and he gently pressed kisses to her forehead and cheeks as she slept. His own eyes were growing heavy as he watched her, thumb sweeping over her cheek, his heart kicking up, a warmth rippling over his skin that made his breath catch.

  


“Io amo questo donne. Così tanto.” he breathed. He bent his head to the crook of her neck, breathing her in. “Ti amo mia bella dolcezza.”

  


He wanted the rest of his life to be like this. To wake up to this, to hold her, to cook with her. He tucked her head under his chin, amused that she was even shorter than Kiku. “Mia piccola pixie~”

  
  
  


Feliciano stirred to Karissa trying to disentangle herself again and held her close, smiling as she sighed. “Feli... We have to get up...”

  


“I know,” he sighed, kissing her cheek and she melted into him, relaxing again.

  


“I have to stop letting you do this,”

  


“Why would you want to do that?” he teased, pausing to adjust his hold so she couldn’t escape.“Do you realize how beautiful you are when you wake up?”

  


Karissa looked doubtful. “I look a horror when I wake up,” she said, frowning at her hair which had escaped during the night and stuck up every which way.

  


He hummed, twirling a thick of lock of spiral, afro hair in his fingers. “Not to me,”

  


She was warm and comfortable where she was, unusually warm, goosebumps pebbling up her skin and her breath coming shorter. Both of them so vulnerable, tangled in each other in more than one way, the look in his eyes. She found a boldness she only found with those she was truly comfortable with. “Why, Signor Vargas...it seems to me that you've been trying to seduce me~”

  


His slow smirk made her own widen, not letting her internal nerves take over her visage as he pressed his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes with mischief. “Is it working?”

  


It took her a moment for her vocal processes to work again with the distraction he was causing with his eyes alone. “Y-yeah...”

  


“Buon.” he whispered even as he internally sagged in relief that his patience had paid off. His infatuation that had so quickly unfurled in Venezia, followed by fondness and affection had finally come to this, something he could call love.

  


He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I'll make breakfast, you can freshen up,” he suggested lowly.

  


He smiled at her dazed look as she sighed a little breathy happy sigh that him want to keep her here in his arms. “Sure. There’s two bathrooms upstairs; you can use mine.”

  


“Alright.”

  


~^.^~

  


It was all he could do to contain himself from sweeping her up and kissing her right then when she came into the kitchen with hair freshly washed and in a new skirt and tanktop, stretching her arms over her head like a cat. The cats had pestered him for their breakfast already which he took as a good sign and now they were grooming each other. Well, Natasha had to hold down Perci with a paw, ignoring his grumpy expression.

  


“What's for breakfast?” “Cinnamon pancakes, strawberries and milk.”

  


Feliciano had to remind himself to rein it in, to go slowly. He was not as innocent as he liked to appear. But for now, he was content with this, just quietly eating breakfast together.

  


"Mmh, I may have to let you cook for me everyday,"

  


"Careful, what you say, melina~ You may never get rid of me."

  


She just smiled, twirling her fork in her fingers. They cleaned up breakfast in comfortable silence, Karissa humming and bouncing on her toes lightly, Lukas draped over her shoulders. "Karissa," Feliciano said, slowly as if tasting her name on his tongue. “Do you like horses?”

  


“Yup but I don't get to ride as much I’d like.”

  


“I could take you,” he offered. “Pack something nice.”

  


"Presuming I say yes," she teased but unusually he just looked amused.

  


"Do you?"

  


She pretended to think about it, not answering for several moments while Feliciano fidgeted. Then she couldn't contain the slow smile blooming on her face. “I'd be crazy not to.”

  


He didn't conceal his relief, tugging her into a side-hug, nuzzling and pressing kisses to her cheeks as she giggled, making him smile. “Perfetto.”

  



	3. Monarchi di Primevera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feliciano teaches his inamorata, Karissa how to make flower crowns. (originally posted on August 23rd 2016, Edited on 12-6-2016)
> 
> I felt that making this a reader-insert weakened the quality. so I've re-inserted the character I had intended.

Stretched out a patio chair in her yard with a lemonade close to hand and her eyes firmly fixated on a book, Karissa adjusted her sunglasses and turned the page, absently picking up the glass to take a sip. She set it down after a moment, only twitching slightly when she caught the flicker of a shadow but quickly went back to the Spartans of the Halo Universe dropping out of a Pelican into a besieged city, flames bursting forth from buildings -

A cascade of cut flowers tumbled down the pages and Karissa impatiently swept them away.

"Mela, that's your second book today!"

"It's a series," she said, finding her spot as as Feliciano hovered over her shoulder.

"...is that horror?'

"It's a war story. Science fiction. Go away."

"Mela~" He waved a flower under her nose and she lifted her gaze from the book to level an unamused look at him from over the tops of her overlarge replica Gucci sunshades. "Let me finish this chapter." she flipped through the pages. "Only four pages left."

"Okay." he said agreeably, flopping on the grass with the flowers.

Peace resettled over them, Feliciano humming. After several minutes, he stood up to find her several pages into the next chapter.

"Karissa!"

"Wait." she turned the page.

"You said 'let me finish this chapter'!"

"Why are you pestering me with flowers, anyway? I have food." she waved at the collection of covered foods  on the side table. "I'm reading."

"I wanted to teach you how to make flower crowns!"

Karissa looked at him, her critical gaze obscured by the black lenses. "No."

"But amore!"

"I'm reading." she shrieked when he wrested the book from her grasp and found himself tackled. "Give that back, it took me ages to find!" Karissa snatched the book back and darted away from him. "Go away," she repeated and started to read again right there on the grass.

Feliciano sighed; she was impossible like this. But...he smiled fondly, wisps of her wild hair escaping the cloth of her bandanna, her sunglasses slightly too big for her small face. She was cute. And his lover, his _inamorata_. As she stood up and returned to her chair, still engrossed in the book, he picked up the flowers and began to weave, humming quietly.

Consumed by silence under the summer sun, they both relaxed.

When Karissa finally put the book down, marking her place with an italy themed bookmark, she felt something brush her scalp, settling around her head.

"What - "

" _Lodate la Regina della Primavera!"_

"Feli, this - "

" - makes you look beautiful!"

Was she blushing? She certainly felt her face heat up and she tried to suppress her please smile to avail. Where did he get that mirror? 

“Eh, bella, I can’t see your eyes.”  
  
‘Feli, there’s  _ sun _ ,” she complained as he gently slipped them off her nose. 

“Umbrella~” he sang and indeed an sun umbrella had made an appearance when she hadn’t been paying attention. Oh that’s where the shade came from.

“Oh. Hey, no pictures!”

“But, dolcezza, I need to memorialize the moment! See?” he sidled up her to holding up the picture for inspection; the flower crown was an explosion of color - but tastefully so. purple asters, some white and blue flowers she couldn’t name, yellow daisies. he’d captured her in a moment, when she was looking up, showing off the way sun hit her face. 

She covered her smile and what she thought was a growing blush.

"No, no, amore, I like when you smile!”

“Feli,” She grabbed his hands, looking stern. “Don’t poke my cheeks.”

“Only if you make me one,” He waved a daisy, tickling her nose and she pulled away, a laugh curling her lips.

“Feli, I’d shred it.” 

“I’ll teach you!”

“Doesn’t that ruin the point?”

“No! Besides, you’re done reading, right?”

“...Yeah.” 

“Great!” he gently tugged her onto the grass and to the blanket he had spread out. “First, we have some floral wire and some lovely leafy, greenery!” 

She rolled her eyes, a smile curling on her lips.

“Hey, you’re making fun of me,”

“I’m trying not to laugh,” 

“I love when you laugh,”

“You’re a unicorn,” 

Feliciano tilted his head in confusion but couldn’t stop a grin as her catching, chirpy giggles tumbled out. He still didn’t understand what she meant by ‘unicorn’ but it must be a good thing because Michelle genuinely smiled when he asked her about it.

“Greenery and floral wire,” he said pressing them into Karissa’s hands and shuffling to sit next to her. “First we measure my head…” they did so, Karissa being very particular about it. “And then you weave greenery around it fixating it with some more floral wire…”

“Ow! It’s alright, I just pricked myself. Where did you get all these flowers from? Arthur would have had a fit, you ripping flowers out of the ground.”

The fact he’d already been soundly berated at an earlier date for doing just that need not be brought up. " No, I brought them. I found this is nice florist shop.”

 

“To make them last longer, you put them in plant food and water beforehand,” he explained. “Then you wrap the floral wire around the stem and braid them onto your garland.”

She frowned when the first flower flopped and he chuckled, lending a hand.

After several minutes of cursing and weaving, Karissa triumphantly presented a passable flower crown and Feliciano dramatically lowered his head to accept it.

A smile threatened to break forth on her face and he poked her stomach, inducing a squeak.

“See, wasn’t that fun?”

She shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?! Admit, it was fun!” 

She shrieked as his fingers brushed her sides in the barest hint of a tinkle but she twitched away violently. He laughed. “Sei cosi carino~” he cooed, pulling her into a hug. 

“You’re so ridiculous.”


	4. Avoid the Tripwires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino Vargas thinks that his de-facto sister-in-law could be a good dancer.
> 
> (Written in third person as it from Lovino's POV, not the reader's.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow i forgot about this since Dec 2016

Feliciano and his inamorata both had the unique ability to look totally harmless, contradictory humans hiding behind pouts, cute faces and smiles.  
  
But they weren’t and Lovino had the bruises to prove it.  
  
In the first week of their acquaintance, Karissa had twisted his arms behind his back, bruised his collarbone, fought through seven assassins, punched him in the cheek, sat on him and walked away from a meeting with an assassin acting as if she had just finished lunch with her best friend (which she had technically). After  _that_ she had tackled him on several occasions, ordered her cat and dog to tackle him, put him in a headlock, dragged him to the curb like a rubbish bag and other various psychical attacks on his person (that were mostly playful).  
  
And yet despite her tendency for violence, her footsteps were like air and she was built like a dancer. Or maybe because of it. He had often thought she could be a ballet dancer.  
  
He was reminded of this detail as they strolled through the Bankside neighborhood of London and spied a flyer touting about a new dance studio that had opened and was looking for students and hosting demonstrations.  
  
“Karissa, did you dance before?”  
  
She looked at him quizzically, finishing off the last of her ice cream he had brought them. He had scowled at the ‘inferior’ ice cream but she had just laughed and happily licked at the pistachio. (‘I haven’t had these in ages!’)  
  
“Ballet, tango…”  
  
“Nope, never. Ah, well, a few lessons...I think? But nothing ever stuck. Oh wait! Andres asks me to be his dancing dummy sometimes but he tugs me around; he’s just trying to perfect his own dance.”  
  
“He doesn’t  _teach_ you?”  
  
“Nah; I get scattered and he gets impatient; he has a dance partner anyway.”  
  
“You’ve never danced.” he sounded doubtful. “Not seriously?”  
  
No. Oh! It’s because I do those ballet things right? I’ve always  _wanted_ to but I got disillusioned when I read about things like anorexia and low self-esteem. Granted, those were in fiction but I was young.” she shrugged. “ But it wasn’t like we had the money for those things so that was that.”

Which was ashame, She could have been go at it.

“Excuse me!”

Karissa flinched, almost settling into a fighting stance  but Lovino hastily put a disarming hand on her shoulder before she attacked the equally startled woman in front of her.

  
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the woman recovered and adjusted her glasses. “I just couldn’t help overhearing, you could never have dance lessons?”  
  
“No…” Karissa straightened up and went back to licking her ice cream and looking carefree and bored.  
  
“Well, the Bankside Dance Studio is just opening and we’re giving free demonstrations and lessons!”  
  
“No thanks.” Lovino said, stopping a sneer from appearing on his face. He was still a little snobbish; if he wanted lessons he’d find a proper teacher in Italy.  
  
“it’s a free event,” the woman went on, clearly ignoring Lovino. “We have refreshments as well, catered by one of the local establishments.”  
  
Lovino rolled his eyes but Karissa was clearly intrigued, taking the flyer. “Can we go?” he whined in her ear. “Somewhere else, I mean? If you’re hungry, we can find someplace else to eat; aren’t you suppose to be showing me around London anyway?”  
  
“You’ve been here often enough,” she said dismissively. “What kind of dance?"  
  
“We hope to expand but at the moment, we have waltz, ballet and tango. I’m sure your friend would enjoy it too!”

No, Antonio’s tango could smash anything these people did out of the water and he was not learning ballet in  _England_. First of all, he already knew the steps. And -

“Could we?”

Lovino goggled at her for a moment. “No!”

“Please? It’ll be fun!” She was  _teasing_ him; she tried to look serious but she couldn’t hide her amusement worth a damn.

“You just said you didn’t care!”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“You two would take it to well I think,” the woman interjected surveying them with a tiny smile around her lips.

“Cosa?”

“You both have the natural build and movement for it.” she continued, intrusively rearranging them into a dancing pose. Karissa wilted at the touch though he could only gather this at from her dimmed expression. Lovino would have smacked the woman away if she hadn’t...well, been a woman. “See, perfect!”

Karissa shuffled, angling herself away from the woman and Lovino scowled at the woman.

This woman was making his defacto sister-in-law  _uncomfortable_ now and the usual flare of indignation he felt wasn’t surprising.

The woman seemed unfazed. “I’m sure that ice cream wasn’t nearly filling enough. Dancing and a good meal afterwards would be a nice touch to this Saturday, yes?”

“We’ll think about it,” Lovino snapped as Karissa disentangled from him, hovering a step behind him.

The woman smiled. “Well, I hope you decide to come! Have a nice day!”

“Eh..Let’s go somewhere else.” she said, once the woman had left. “That woman was pushy.” Lovino sighed internally in relief as she peered at the flier, “On the other hand the restaurant catering around is one I reserve for special occasions because it’s so expensive.”

Twenty quid a meal was hardly  _expensive_  but he didn’t voice this thought not wanting to ignite another socioeconomic class disagreement because those always left him feeling guilty, frustrated and awkward.

“ _Donna_ , I will buy you food myself if you’re hungry. Besides, you  _just_ said she was pushy.”

“True.”

She crumpled up the flyer and tossed it in a bin as they passed and it took him a moment to realize she had threaded her arm through his. “I thought you liked dancing?”

“How did you know?’ he blurted, startled  before it occurred to him Lise probably told her after how many times  _they_ had danced. And even if she had -

“I guessed.”

Ah. This was the  thing Gilbert complained about, now that he was on better terms with everyone. Karissa just noticed things and not for the first time, he wondered just how scary the ladies could be.

Lovino huffed. “I do but - “

“A London studio doesn’t rank to your  _refined_  taste?” She was teasing but he internally flinched at the jibe.

“Precisely.”

“Well, it would be nice to see if I liked it…”

“Ask Toni.”

She wrinkled her nose and he couldn’t help chuckling at her continued mock-dislike of the Spaniard though everyone knew it was a front at this point.

“Hello, you look like a dancing couple!”

 _Great glory of heaven_ , if they couldn’t get through this borough without being harassed by frantic hawkers -

Karissa tried to wave off the new woman - younger than the last. A child really. “Ah, no - we were just - “

“We’re having free demonstrations - “

“Yes, we know but - “

“You two look perfect!”

Lovino found his slightly politer voice. “We don’t want to attend your stupid dance crap!” Well, he had said  _slightly_ politer.

“But you’re both so perfect!” the stupid woman reminded him of a younger Feli and only her gender saved her from being smacked. “And we’re also including free lessons for a month to the couple who wins our raffle! “

 _Wins_? If she said ‘free’ anymore, Karissa would be seduced and that was not in Lovino’s plans.

“è fantastico, arrivederci!”

Lovino dragged Karissa away who had looked like she was  _considering_ it. “Pushy.” she scolded him. “Try not bite people’s heads off.”  
  
“I have a right to be annoyed!”

“But anger doesn’t solve problems. Be Slytherin, not Gryffindor.”

He ignored the comment and grumbled. “Let’s get out of the borough before we’re harassed  _again_.”

“Good idea.”

Unfortunately, they were waylaid by a young woman Karissa’s age who lured her into conversation about books and history and Lovino tuned out so by the time he realized they were walking towards a small park with  _dancers_ , it was too late.

“You made it!”

It was the second woman and Lovino scowled so fiercely, she hastily welcomed them and quickly vanished into the crowd.

The girl who had lured Karissa - and him in the process, still being attached to her - cheerfully excused herself and Karissa didn’t seem very upset about being tricked and just giggled at Lovino’s various dark curses - most of which were not in English.

“We’re here; we might as well give it a whirl.”

As was becoming the unfortunate norm, he couldn’t snap at her - not genuinely anyway and settled for discontented grumbling, trying to pretend he  _was not amused_ by her giggling.

She didn’t make any move to mingle with the other attendees and there was a brief speech before they were broken up into groups; Karissa choose the waltz group after making faces at the tango and Lovino looked as if he had smelled something horrible when she suggested ballet.

He did like to dance but the whole situation made him sour (“I won’t tell anyone!” she promised but by that she likely meant: ‘Only Lise will know!”) but now he was having  _thoughts_ and regretting this very very much.

It had been four months since breaking off his romantic relationship with Lise and Karissa and Feliciano had been dating for almost a year and  a half now. He was dreading the year and a half mark, as if his and Rose’s milestone meant anything to the success of his brother’s relationship.

 _Stupid_.

For learning the box step, Karissa had been paired with a strange man - ‘Get to know people!’ the instructors said - and while he looked nice, Karissa clearly wanted to do nothing more than run away. Lovino couldn’t take more than two rounds of searching her out amongst the crowd, the instructor coming around to teaching them something he had known since he was five before he dropped his partner (not literally) ignoring her cry of protest and swept Karissa off to another cleared spot, glaring at the instructor as he went.

“Thank you,” she’d whispered fervently.

The instruction continued, the abandoned partners pairing up and Lovino had looked down at her - she wasn’t much shorter - and felt two conflicting emotions. One was soaring and the other was panicking because of the soaring and no, no, no,  _no_.

_It’s only been four months. This can’t be happening again._

“ _Naturalmente, sorella,_ ” The word tasted odd on his tongue in the way it hadn’t before and he banished the feeling, fitting their hands together and settling his hand on her shoulder. as she did the  same. “It’s simple, follow me. Box step.”

“Ah this I get,” she said cheerfully relaxing, letting Lovino take the lead, stepping forward, Karissa stepping back to match his movement  as they stepped to the side, bringing the feet together. Lovino stepped back as she stepped forward, mirroring their movements. They didn’t stumble or trip, following easily and he found himself making it more complex, adding small turns and twists.

“Oh!”

He actually jumped at the instructor’s delighted exclamation. “See, look here! Look how they do it.”

He really, really hated the pushy instructors at this studio.

After that, the instructor thought they fit  _so well_  together and kept using them as her demonstration team for the waltz as they both didn’t have to be told the bare basics like how to stand up properly and he wanted to say ‘Stop, she’s my ex-girlfriend’s  _sister_.’  Which wouldn’t be so bad but she was practically his sister-in-law; Feliciano and Karissa’s relationship was going well - a miracle considering how many times Feliciano had managed to put his foot in his mouth in the first three months alone - and Lovino would throw himself into the strait if he messed that up just because he had apparently, without his noticing, developed a small crush on her.

She was suppose to be his  _cognata_ , his  _sorellina_  and he was  _fond_ of her   _-_ tiny, secret crush aside - even though he complained about her a lot and snarked at her and he  _was_ a little protective (okay, maybe a lot protective) and it was mutual.

It was only Karissa’s clear desire to melt into the woodwork that stopped him from spitting curses at the instructor - and having to contain his anger when he was with Lise who cared for scenes as much as Karissa did - not at all. Old habits.

The class was split into those with experience and those completely without; the more experienced dancers went on to the more advanced steps.

He settled for a tiny scowl instead as the instructor shooed them to the middle of the room again. “And Karissa and Lovino will properly demonstrate what we’ve studied so far - the basic box step, adding turns and the underarm twirl.”

Karissa grew nervous when Madame Portefeuille added the music after a few repeats. “The count is simple.”

Karissa was staring at her feet, muttering ‘1,2, _3_ , 1,2,3~” until Lovino made her look up.

‘Do you look at your feet doing karate forms?”

“Kata.” she corrected. “And sometimes. When I’m going through step by step, I pause and check - “

Oh good lord. “Just  _feel_ the music.”  
  
“But how am I suppose to know I’m doing it right?” she whined, gaze dipping back down to her shoes.

He tugged her gaze back up making her meet his eyes. “Trust me. You did it before.”

“Eh...I don’t want to step - “  
  
“ _Bella,_ ” he chided and nearly bit his own tongue off. “Have a little faith.”

She still seemed nervous and he found it amusing that she was so concerned about stepping on his toes when just last week she had cheerfully tackled him and put him in a headlock.

It was a little chafing doing such a simple dance - Lovino could dance this in his sleep but he forced himself to be patient for Karissa who had never been much of a dance learner and the tunes of violins and pianos echoed peacefully on the studio walls as Karissa relaxed, letting Lovino guide their footsteps. She tried to keep her gaze on his face rather than her toes and he found himself try to avert his eyes.

What would have happened if the chips had dropped differently? For a few moments on the plane, there was a window in which he could have easily been drawn to her, connected with her but he met Lise on the canals, not Karissa and that was that.

Dancing was  _intimate_ and he found himself cursing the instructor; ‘Closer, closer - she’s your partner, not a lethal disease!”

He must’ve looked murderous because Karissa giggled. “We  _can_ leave,”

He looked at her skeptically. “And miss out on free food?”

“Eh….” the tables weren’t filled with food yet so he could only assume it would be arriving after instruction was over. “You’re being a better teacher honestly.”

“You’re picking it up very quickly.”

She shrugged. “I’ve danced a few times.”

“You said you hadn’t!”

“Well to me it seemed like basic swaying across the floor.”

He grumbled at her, inducing more giggles and he fought off an amused smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

“if they harass us one more time, I am going to bite off someone’s head.” he threatened, eyeing the instructor and aiming a death glare at her.

“Lovi…” she had leaned in, Lovino freezing at her close proximity, every sense heightened, every cell  _aware_ of her presence. A familiar clenching feeling in his gut,that he had had around Lise,  _still_  did sometimes, though he refused to admit it - oh no. No, no, no. “Don’t murder anyone; it’ll be a bother cleaning up after you.”

She said it so casually, but she clearly wasn’t taking the threat seriously and neither was he. He wanted to get her  _away_ from him but at the same time he didn’t want to let go.

 _No_.

They did finish out the lesson with no bloodshed, Lovino forcing himself to relax, convinced she could feel the drumming of his pulse and the quickening of his breath - his face was turning red and  _this was not good._

“Are you okay?”

“Si, si, just annoyed.”

She smiled. “When aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sure if she was graciously pretending not to notice or genuinely oblivious but he was grateful either way.

The food was lukewarm and Lovino rushed her out before he beat to death the next man who thought their new dancing skills would make the ladies look on them any less than the douchebags they were.

“Ah, that was pointless!” she complained and they cheerfully poked fun at their now former classmates as they went to a proper restaurant and he couldn’t help remembering an argument - him telling Feliciano that taking Karissa to a restaurant when she had a boyfriend was clearly a date; ‘It’s called being friendly!’ he had defended.

Of course, Karissa  _hadn’t_ been with Séamus at that point, but they’d been out of the loop at that time and no one had updated them.

She and Séamus fit so well together though; it was a like mind-boggling they hadn’t been able to make it work after all.

She was fiercely protective of the friends she called family, more so when it came to her brothers, Xan and Areion and had actually hip-checked him (Lovino) across the room the minute he looked at Xan sideways. She loved her mother to pieces, was fiercely loyal to Lise, expressed her emotions by punching people in the shoulder - well, the men - adored her menagerie of animals, snarked back at him and had a good, if untrained singing voice and speaking of her voice -

 _Fuck me running._  
  
No. No, No.

Don’t.

“Lovi?”

She said ‘Lu-vee’ not ‘LOVE-vee’ like Lise and he honestly prefered Karissa’s version unless it was the ginger herself using the other title and - and -

 _Merde_.

“Uno momento.” he said, hastily excusing himself to the restroom.

 

 _Don’t be stupid. It’s just a passing fancy. You’ll treat her like always and_   _ **calm the fuck down**_ _._

_...but what if?_

_Don’t you even!_

He splashed water on his face.  _Calm the fuck down and treat her like normal._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma- OC Karissa's roommate
> 
> Lovino Vargas - South Italy/Italy Romano


	5. Counsel

 

He brushed off her worries with the excuse ‘stress headaches’ earning some light teasing and Karissa ordering tea for him but it was preferable to the truth.

 

She was so off-limits it was painful.

 

And he needed  _space_.

 

He saw her to the block and fled to the hotel to collect himself. ‘Don’t trip, Lovi, no one’s chasing you! Business?”

 

“Yes!” he waved and tried not to look like he was running away.

 

The next day (when Karissa was out walking the dogs), Lovino found Rose in her room and plopped down on the bed uninvited, dropping his head on her shoulder, the Pennsylvanian woman simply adjusting to the extra weight with an intrigued hum. “Come vai, bello?”

“I am fucked.”

“Oh?” She let out a quiet scoff at his declaration. “Did you blow something up again?”

“ _I wish_. I have a  _problem_.” The whole thing spilt out almost involuntarily though 

He just … felt both horribly confused and light around Karissa, and oddly enough Rose was still the only  _sane_ person he could truly confide in.

When he finally ended off with a whine unbecoming of a CEO/Art Theft Ring boss/ Guildmaster, Rose just patted his head, and he almost growled as he could  _feel_  that knowing and bemused smile of hers.  
  
"What is it with you damn American women anyway?!"

There was a grumble, and he swore he heard her say something about “the same with you feckin’ Italian men.” but he didn’t make it out.

After a moment, Rose shrugged, pausing slightly before answering, slightly subdued in that manner that always made him feel the slightest bit guilty. "You're the one who proposed splitting sweetheart. You can't blame  _all_ of us."

  
"Oh shut up." He wasn’t sure if he was addressing the tone in her voice or the speaker herself.

"Nope~"

 

_Oh she’s teasing this time._

  
" _You_  were the one who agreed with me."

"Because I thought you'd realise you're an idiot. But clearly one of us was in the wrong here."

Sometimes he did still wonder how things could have ended up between them. They had lasted for over a year, and he did start to fall for her. Hard. If it hadn’t been for Gilbert already having her heart he would’ve-

 

His stomach clenched as he forced that train of thought to end before it finally left the station.

 

_Why are things so complicated?_

 

Even so, this was Rose, and he could always be simply Lovi around her. She never expected anything more or less of him. No amount of crying, yelling, laughing or sighing would take that away from him.

 

And even just as friends, he was still grateful for that.

 

"....I really am an idiot."

She was smiling fondly, and ran a hand through his hair. "Most of the time."

"I thought you would comfort me." He was pouting, fighting the urge to relax as she lightly scratched his head.

 

At least that crush was at the back of his mind now.

She scoffed: "Do I look like a mom?"

"Well you sure act like one."

"Touché…” Her voice trailed off, clearly aware she needed to clear the air of the original topic, fingers pausing in thought and voice nearly silent. “You realise it won't matter in the end though, right?"

"Si... Capisco... It was just-" Here, he lost all of his words and dramatically flailed his hands, another unfortunate habit he picked up from the Americans. "Awkward!"

Rose sighed. "Well if it's any comfort, she thought you were just being weird and only saw it as two friends dancing together."

"Thank God." Lovino fell face first into the bed with a heavy huff beside her. She traced a couple circles on his back, almost absentmindedly, and he sighed slightly at the familiar touch, letting himself relax at last.

_Old habits die hard._

Then his thoughts wandered once again, and he wondered to himself if being in love blinded the aspiring writer to any other signs of romantic attraction outside of Feliciano’s. If she’d noticed, he would have thrown himself in the Thames.

Well, maybe not. That water was filthy after all.

He was just being dramatic now.

Sometimes, ‘what -ifs’ were just that - possibilities that would never came to be. Rose was always going to be Rose no matter who she was or wasn’t with.

And Karissa... she was good for his brother.

He sighed once more, letting his eyes drift shut.

_One day at a time. That’s all. One day at a time._

 


End file.
